


Rising to the Surface

by Kiraly



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Naked Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 06:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12030318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: Lalli gave everything he had, and now it's time to rest. Maybe. If he can.





	Rising to the Surface

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ensam Går Jag](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029685) by [Elleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/pseuds/Elleth). 



> Because OH MAN did the cover for [chapter 17](http://sssscomic.com/comic.php?page=781) ever set off all my "CUDDLING FOR WARMTH!!!" senses! For some reason my brain got on the track of what Lalli would think if he woke up in Emil's arms, and I ended up getting some ideas from Elleth's fic inspired by the same page. This is more-or-less the Lalli side to her take on Emil.
> 
> ALSO, this is more-or-less canon compliant as of the end of chapter 16, including (incoming spoiler)  
> mentions of Tuuri's death. So just a heads-up.

It was cold beneath the dream sea. Quiet, though. It had been a long time since anything had been quiet. Even when Lalli could get away from the other people, his own mind clamored with all the words he couldn’t say. But that was all over now. He could float along and rest.

_Say something! Anything!_

Strange, though. He’d always been told not to linger in these waters. Onni didn’t like it, got mad if he went wandering. He said it was dangerous. And Lalli had seen that for himself, too. He’d felt the danger, fought off the grasping hands that sought to pull him under. Hands like the ones that tried to hold him too tightly, or punched his arm for no reason, or made him eat when he didn’t want to—no. He’d spent his whole life dodging unwanted hands. It was only recently that he’d found how nice they could be, smoothing his hair with gentle strokes or carefully covering his eyes to keep the soap away in the bath. If he concentrated, he could almost feel those hands again.

_What did you do?_

But it was hard to focus on anything. So much easier to drift wherever the dream sea carried him and enjoy the peace. And didn’t he deserve it? He’d worked so hard. He’d done what they asked, and more, and he was so, so tired. They could do without him. And anyway, he’d already failed in the only way that mattered, so there was really no point in trying to help anymore.

_Help._

Onni would say differently, of course. He’d be upset if Lalli stopped trying, if he let himself get lazy and made a mistake. They weren’t allowed to make mistakes. Bad things happened when they did.

Lalli must have made a mistake somewhere. How else could he explain it? He’d messed up, and now…

_Don’t leave me. Please, don’t!_

Maybe it was because he’d left Keuruu. They shouldn’t have done that. They had a good life there—almost as good as the cool calm of the dream sea. Onni hadn’t wanted him to go. He’d begged, and cried. But he did that all the time, so Lalli hadn’t paid attention. He’d let Tuuri drag him away instead.

_Please don’t leave._

Tuuri. All at once Lalli realized that the quiet was broken, his thoughts had managed to catch up. He was still floating, still suspended in the dream sea—and hadn’t Onni always warned him especially about that, about going under the water? But now he was thinking again, and worse, _remembering._

_I’m going to bed. Have a good night._

Tuuri was dead. In the small, rapidly eroding core of calm stillness, Lalli wondered if maybe he was dead too. It was certainly peaceful enough to be Tuonela. But there were no birds. He hadn’t been welcomed by the Swan. And he couldn’t be a spirit, because if he was...who would lead him to the right path? Not the really tall, really stupid one. He didn’t know how to do anything, except make drawings that caught ghosts on fire. And if Lalli wanted fire for something, he’d just have Emil do it.

The thought of Emil fractured the last of his dreamy haze. _Emil._ He’d been in danger, a giant the size of a building bearing down on him. Lalli had flung himself in the way, pouring all his magic into the effort. And then he’d been flung here. He couldn’t remember anything else, only sinking beneath the waves and welcoming the dark embrace of the dream sea’s water. _Cold. But quiet._ It had been so long since he’d had some peace and quiet.

He didn’t want the quiet, though. He wanted hands, Emil’s hands to hold him close and reassure him that he was real. That both of them were _alive._ And if he wanted more than a memory of those gentle touches, he had to wake up.

_Come on now. Come on, wake up._

It hurt, pushing himself through the water instead of letting it take him where it willed. He had to fight his way toward the surface. Every stroke brought him closer to the light, but the closer he got, the more pain it caused. He swam anyway, pushing past the pain. He had to do this. For Emil. For Tuuri.

In the distance, he heard someone singing. Lalli swam toward the song, and broke the surface with a gasp.

_Wake up._

Something popped and hissed. Lalli tried to hiss back, but he didn’t have the breath for it. By the time his lungs remembered their job, he managed to open his eyes. A soft orange glow flickered in front of him. Fire. The source of the hissing, and also the smoke that was making it harder to breathe. It was probably warming him up, too, but strangely enough it felt like the heat was coming from behind him.

And then soft skin brushed his chest, and Lalli realized that the heat source was _Emil,_ wrapped around him from behind and holding him close. One of his hands rested on top of Lalli’s, directly over his heart. And Lalli could feel when Emil’s hand slipped, because his chest was bare—and so, on further study, was the rest of him. And he suspected, from the delicious warmth at his back, that Emil was too. Now that he thought about it, he noticed other things: clothes spread out around the fire to dry, a lingering dampness in his hair, and the scratchy blanket protecting him from the worst of the chill. He didn’t know where he was, but clearly it was somewhat safe, and Emil was taking care of him.

His relief spilled out in an audible gasp, and Emil stiffened at the sound. “Lalli?” Some of his warmth leeched away as Emil twisted, trying to get a look at his face. Lalli sighed and turned his head.

“Emil.”

Emil had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked more serious than Lalli had ever seen him. But at Lalli’s whispered word, his face split into a grin. “Lalli! You’re here, you’re awake! I was so worried, I didn’t—” He rambled on, but Lalli gave up on understanding his Swedish almost immediately. He _was_ here. He was safe, and he was with Emil, and...well. At some point he’d have to put his uniform back on, but for now this was better. And so he rested his head on Emil’s shoulder, letting the soothing Swedish babble wash over him, and held tight to the hand that turned to grip his. Emil’s warmth radiated through him, and brought with it another reminder. He might be a little bit broken, but it turned out he was still alive after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Minutia_R for planting the idea of Lalli saying Emil's name at the end, because YES.


End file.
